Lucie gives me a shy smile. “I thought you might not be able to move much so…”
“So you thought it was your opportunity to dress me like a lumberjack out of your fantasy, Lu?”
“Well, when we go to the cottage this summer, I’d love to watch you axe some logs.”
My whole body relaxes at knowing she already has plans that far ahead. And I’m included. “That sounds like a good plan.”
When I’m dressed, Lucie climbs up the hospital bed and arranges her body so she’s next to me but we don’t touch. I want to embrace her, to hold her, but I can’t. And it might just kill me. Her heat wafts towards me, warming my darkened soul. I still don’t believe I’m worthy of her, regardless of what happened in Split. But that line of thinking already put her at risk once and for her, I’d do anything. Even heal the parts of myself I thought had been broken and thrown into the Adriatic Sea.
THIRTY-ONE
TOMA
THREE MONTHS LATER
My prey walks the halls of Edinburgh University, talking animatedly with Jay, Benoit and the three girls she met at that fateful party mouths ago.
She swaggers in wide purple pants and a black bomber jacket I had to beg her to put on this morning. March has been kind in Edinburgh this year but I still refuse to have her leave the house without a jacket and at least one sweater, a scarf and gloves in her bag. She says it’s not fashionable but having a cold is what’s not fashionable. I rarely argue and just carry the clothes around as I follow in the shadows.
As she approaches the door of one of the main lectures halls, she holds it and lets her friends get in before her. Then, she pauses, squinting to where I’m hidden from view. A dazzling smile spreads slowly across her lips.
“See you later,piccolo,” she sing-songs as she steps inside the auditorium.
I shake my head, the grin on my face hurting my cheeks. It soothes me to know where Lucie is at all times. Always has, but especially now. I need her like air and knowing everythingis fine in her life is the purpose of mine. My therapist thinks it’s unhealthy, but agree to disagree. We have bigger fish to fry anyway.
I look down at my watch. “Shit.”
Gisele hates it when I’m late. Fair enough. I fly her to Edinburgh from London once a week for our ninety minutes session, I can at least be on time.
I stride to where I parked my motorcycle and straddle it in a rush, firing up the engine and rushing to the hotel meeting room we rent in front of the airport. I always have the same room, with glass doors so everyone always knows exactly what happens in there. Not that I think any of the staff would gossip, or that Lucie would believe I’m cheating on her with my therapist, but I don’t like secrecy. Not anymore. Secrets almost got me killed. Almost got my girl killed. I promised to be more open. Even if vulnerability has my skin itching.
“You’re late,” Gisele complains without raising her eyes to meet mine as I step into the room.
“Sorry, doc. I got held up on the way,” I answer, grinning to charm her as I take my seat in front of her.
It doesn’t work. My therapist looks up from her notepad, throwing me a dark look from above her glasses. Then she shakes her head, the inkling of a smile at the corner of her severe mouth.
Gisele mostly works with incarcerated people. That’s how I found out about her. It’s not common knowledge—her privacy is well guarded—but Dante knows a few people she’s helped over the years and recommended her to me.
“How are you today?” She asks, same as always.
Her half moon glasses hang dangerously low on her short button nose, and with her grey hair hanging in a short bob above her shoulders, she looks like she can chew anyone up. I guess with working with dangerous people all the time, beinga tough cookie comes in handy. I really enjoy that she doesn’t tolerate bullshit and can be compassionate without being commiserating. The last thing I ever want to feel is like a victim.
“I was at the university.”
“I figured as much but that’s not what I asked, Toma.”
Her icy blue stare is piercing. My name always sounds like a gentle push coming from her. I take a deep inhale, looking anywhere but at her. Even though we’ve met here for the first time almost three months ago, I always look around like it’s the first time I’m seeing this place. On the other side of the large glass wall, restaurant staff is cleaning the breakfast buffet while managers in their suits supervise and check off items on their boards. The flowers are being delivered as I take a moment to gather myself, large bouquets of purple flowers to replace the white ones that were delivered last week in all corners of the hotel lobby.
I turn back my gaze to Gisele, who hasn’t moved. She sits in front of me, a leg crossed above the other in her burgundy pant suit. The waist coat is the same colour and covers a beige turtleneck. She’s elegant, patient, and watches me with a kind and knowing eye. So much like Lucie.
“I’m getting tired of…” I clear my throat and shift in my seat. “I still can’t be intimate with Lucie. And I’m tired of it.”
Gisele specialises in cases like mine.
“Are you tired of it because you think you owe sex to Lucie? That without it, you’re not in a real relationship and aren’t doing what you can for her to forgive you.”
“She’s already forgiven me.”
